I arrived in poorness
that is not full yet
And the strange things
that can’t be done yet
And a new criminal I become
the sin of wheat and apple
that can’t be committed yet
in love that feels holy
that can’t be done yet

I am still waiting
now
That I am falling down
My heart is in deception
That can’t be done yet
Is following me
And sleep
And sleeplessness
That can’t be done yet
And my full hand from my empty hand
Fills and runs out
Again
abandon of these days of poorness
That remain
There is somewhere
Luck that cant’tbe done yet